


Here and Now

by ineptshieldmaid



Series: Of Heroes and Queens [11]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, The Problem of Susan, dubcon (background)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-03
Updated: 2008-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:45:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineptshieldmaid/pseuds/ineptshieldmaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some times, some places, weren't as real as this one, but you still don't want Edmund seeing this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here and Now

**Author's Note:**

> Please note - this fic contains off-screen dubcon sex involving the POV character. May be triggering to some readers.

The lock finally turned. Susan Pevensie pulled the key out and tucked it away, trying to ignore her shaking hands. She was too old for this. Too old for this. Pull yourself together, Susan Pevensie, it's nothing you haven't- only you haven't, have you? Not here, not this time, and the other wasn't real, so you haven't, haven't ever. Never. But now you have. And it was your idea, wasn't it, or was it his? At any rate you wanted it, you missed it- only there was nothing _to_ miss, because you'd never.

And now it is nearly midnight, and there you are in your parents' living room, trying not to shake. Your parents are nowhere in evidence, because Susan Pevensie is a grown woman, at secretarial school by day and spending sedate evenings with her friends. Susan Pevensie is a good girl, and there is no need to wait up for you anymore.

You can't go upstairs to the little room where Lucy- who is home on school holidays- is sleeping. Lucy rarely wakes when Susan comes in, and you can't decide which would be worse- that she should sleep on peacefully while you stare at the ceiling, or that she should wake up and try to be comforting. Instead, you go up to the room which had once been the day nursery, and is now the boys' library, when they are home. You slip inside before you realise the lights are on, and instead of blessed solitude, there is Edmund. He has a book on his lap (he does often keep late hours), but he is watching you.

Some times, some places, weren't as real as this one, but you still don't want Edmund seeing this. Not this time. You had, of course, forgiven him (in that time and place which are not as real as this one), because you had grown older and you couldn't not, not when you were all working so closely together. But here, here in the here-and-now and there is no reason why Susan Pevensie should forgive Edmund for the wounds of another life. You turn to go, because you don't want to hear 'damaged goods' and 'thoughtless' and 'reckless' again. You don't have the secure laces of a Queen's gown to hold you upright this time.

'Su.' Edmund's voice is low and cautious. 'I've… I've put on the kettle.' He gestures to the hearth, where, sure enough, there is a kettle squatting fat and black.

'Were you waiting up for me?'

Edmund flushes. 'No.'

Despite yourself, you take a few steps further into the room and sink into a chair. Edmund regards you silently for a moment.

'Yes,' he says at last. 'Someone has to.'

You try to find it in yourself to be angry- you still haven't forgiven him for that memory, of a life less real, which has surfaced in your mind and will not go away. You ought to be angry, but you are as numb now as you were then, and Edmund is not doing anything to make you rouse. He pours water from the kettle into a teapot, and you remember dropping a teacup in another life. You dropped the teacup and stood up and said something to Edmund- what _had_ you said? And then he'd said something about marriage treaties and damaged goods and securing treaties.

You suppose none of that matters anymore, and wonder if anyone even cares here.

Edmund is holding out his hand and saying something about moving closer to the fire. You take his hand, because it is easier than not, and let him shepherd you across the room and into the chair he has vacated. He perches on the big leather arm, and touches your shoulder very gently.

'Did you want to talk about it?'

You don't want to talk about it. Not to Edmund. There is silence, and eventually Edmund pours you a cup of tea. You take the teacup and stare at it.

'Would it help if I broke this one?' You ask, and then wonder why. Edmund breathes in, a sudden sharp breath, and sets his own teacup down on the bookshelf behind your chair. He sinks down beside you, and he probably looks ridiculous kneeling next to an _armchair_, but for some reason it doesn't feel strange.

'Susan.' He closes his eyes momentarily. 'I never told you… I never… Birds and Beasts, I was a colossal idiot. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I should have said that before.'

You accept it, because you haven't the energy to stay angry. 'It wasn't… It wasn't real,' you say quietly.

Edmund shakes his head. 'Doesn't matter. We thought it was, at the time. I was still… Look, I'm every bit as sorry as if it had been here. More, really.'

Your hands are still shaking and the teacup is wobbling. You set them down on the arm of the chair, and then you have nothing to do with your hands. Edmund catches one of them and you almost squeeze his fingers off.

'It hurt,' you say at last, and you're not sure if you mean that unreal time, or what Edmund said, or this time that has just been. Edmund holds onto you and listens as you make no sense. 'I didn't- it shouldn't- Ed, I'm too _old_ for this!'

'Was it-' his voice trembles a little. 'Well, was it… your idea?'

You bark an almost laugh. 'This time or last?'

'Either. Both.'

'I don't know.' Edmund's fingers tighten around yours. 'I wasn't- well, you know. Forced. I wanted- I thought…' You drag the back of your free hand over your eyes and take a gulp of tea. It is still hotter than you'd expected, and you splutter and spill tea all over yourself. Edmund ignores this, and is still holding onto you.

'I hate making the same mistake twice,' you say at last.

Edmund gives you a twisted sort of smile. 'I promised myself I wouldn't,' and you realise he is really, completely sorry, as if that other life were more important than this one.

You sigh. 'Well, so much for the good girl,' you say, and your stomach knots, because this shouldn't be all there is to it.

Edmund stands up and tilts your chin up toward him.

'There is not a man in the world worth _half_ of you,' he says, fiercely, and his other hand touches the line of your brow as if he still sees the gold circlet there. You shrug away from his hands. That's all gone now and it wasn't ever real anyway. You drink the last of the tea.

Edmund takes the teacup from your hands and sets it beside the kettle. He turns back to you, where you're studying the stitches in the armchair leather. Taking your hand, he pulls you to your feet and you realise he dwarfs you now (again). He lays one hand on your cheek and says quietly, just as fiercely,

'There isn't one man in the world worth half of you, _Susan Pevensie_.' He kisses your brow in something like benediction. 'And you can have any of them, as many of them, as you want, but if I ever find out- if any of them ever think they deserve you…'

King Edmund wraps his arms around Susan Pevensie and you hold onto him, tightly. He walks you to your room, and bids you goodnight with a formal bow. You smile and kiss his cheek and call him brother.


End file.
